


Un Nouveau Rêve

by twilightquill



Category: The Night Circus - Erin Morgenstern
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-20
Updated: 2015-12-20
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:51:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5467289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twilightquill/pseuds/twilightquill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new dream in the story of The Night Circus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Un Nouveau Rêve

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wanderlustlover](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wanderlustlover/gifts).



> Happy Holidays!

Birmingham, December 1920 

The circus arrives without warning. It always has and likely always will. 

A crowd of enthusiasts lines the closed front gates, anticipating, waiting for the last glimmers of light to fade. The audience is rive with excitement. Whispers break the silence as each person guesses what lays inside the circus tonight. 

You stand amongst the people, red scarf at hand. The bitter chill from the wind prompts you to breath into your scarf, looking, up as how the moisture disappears before the black-and-white striped tents in front of your eyes. You turn your head, looking round. Between the shoulders of the crowd you catch glimpses of red in every direction. Rêveurs. Many more have turned up than usual. 

Being the connoisseur that you are, you already know of the rumours. 

The illusionists’ tent. 

The circus ventures from town to town, across the globe, rarely frequenting the same place more than once. But even more rare is the illusionists’ tent. Only a chosen few have seen the tent, striped black and white like all the rest, but no one has stepped fully inside.Each person describes glimpsing a different spectacle. Sunlight gardens in the midst of night, snowy tundras freezing you to the bone, fountains of milk raining down waterfalls. Know one knew how the attraction came to be. 

You make it your mission to find this tent tonight. 

The crowd hushes as the lamps illuminate the edges of serpentine paths slithering through the marquees. The sea of shuffling feet has come to a stand still. Crackling and roars of fires can be heard over the quiet encroaching dusk. A wisp from the central bonfire catches the corner of your vision, colouring the grey sky, but vanishes almost instantaneously. 

“Look there, look there!” a girl not much older than 8 shouts from the shoulders of his father. Everyone turns. She points her tiny gloves towards to what can only be the majestic grandfather clock behind the elaborate wrought-iron gates. 

The clock chimes, releasing two miniature performers of their own dancing fluidly across their metallic stage. Echoes ring and shudder the gates unlock. Creak. The sound brings music and warmth to your being.

The circus is now open.

***

Clad in white from top to toe, she flicks her red hair back, tying it behind her military jacket. Like second nature she pats down her uniform, carefully removing the fine hairs and specks that tarnished her pristine suit. Poppet takes one last look into the mirror before turning to leave the dressing room for her next performance. She walks towards the curtains, trailing her hand down the velveteen surface. She pauses. As her hand rests on the fabric she stares straight into her crimson gemstone ring. Her eyes became glazed rendering her motionless for a few breaths. Something was off. She hadn't felt this way for a while. The last time was Bailey. 

The circus was stable, news had spread far and wide of its splendour. Nothing needed to happen. Nothing needed to change. She dismissed her thoughts shoving them to the back of her mind. The tamer filled herself with the air of the circus, fisted the curtain tightly in her hand and parted it. With flair of course. 

 

***

The woman with the red hair greets the audience graciously, bowing in all directions. She looks to her right, taking the hand of another red haired performer, clad in black, who entered the arena in from the opposite side. Like doppelgängers they took centre stage ready to commence the show. The crowd hushes and the air becomes still as the tension rises. The boy eating his popcorn next to you stops chewing mid completion, open-mouthed. Charming. 

The white dressed performer raises her hand into the air and snaps her fingers plunging the tent into darkness. 

Gasps from arena all around can be heard. Confused, the general public becomes slightly panicked. The rêveurs remain undeterred. They revel in the chaos of the performances. 

Another snap and the tent becomes a light once more. Your eyes adjust to the scene before your eyes and realisation strikes. The performers are no longer there. You are welcomed back to the world of light by the gnarls of the Siberian tigers that prowl the platform. Eyeing up their prey, they analyse each spectator. Eyes unwavering. Hairs on end, nerves humming. Ready. 

There is no cage. No barrier. Just open space. Those in the front row cower in their seats. All expect you.

The tigers make for a run, speeding along the arena without command until they reach the first row. Scattered screams plague the tent. They rush towards you. You know how well the animals are tamed but you cant shake the fear of not knowing. A little speck of uneasiness blackens your heart, tainting the image of the circus. You close your eyes. Only a little. 

“Arretez!” 

A commanding duo of voices rendered the tigers motionless with only a foot clearing the gap between your face and the tigers claw. It was like a still-picture, nothing moved. Not the audience, nor the tigers. 

You fully open your eyes, taking in the full extent of the animals beauty. But before you examine can examine any further, the picture breaks and tigers dash back towards the stage. The performers returned. When they did, no one knows. Both of them smile towards you. 

The act continues. 

 

***

Poppet pinches off her gloves and puts them to one side. Cats returned, audience reassured. She returns to the circus path to enjoy her break. She hides her hair within her white hat to avoid attention. Looking for candied apples to satisfy her cravings she catches the eye of one donning red. The same one in her performance. She followed the rêveur. 

***

You exit the tent, leaving a world of disillusion by to be greeted by sweet caramel and popcorn. The crowd disperses, drifting off to other kiosks and tents, but you do not follow. You recognise the melodies of amazement as you walk past the contortionist’s tent. Children walk hurriedly between tents and performances candy floss stuck to their cheeks. 

You take in all the sounds and sights of the circus but there are too many so you choose to stand still in an attempt to experience them all. The pathway has become clear as people drift off. You hear in the background the cheers, gasps, cries and laughter from tent all around. 

One tent catches your eye. Like all the rest, the curtains are strung open to allow passersby to peek inside. But no one was in, no performer, no spectator. You’ve haven't been in this one before. You walk towards the opening seeing only darkness within. Eyes squinting you wonder why the tent is here. Something shines in the darkness. You venture inside. 

The curtains closes on you from behind, but you take no notice. Continually walking towards the glimmering object, the air becomes colder and harsher to breathe. The object comes no closer no matter how far you walk but every step you take makes the air you breathe cut your lungs with even more frigidity. 

What sounds like wings flutter in the background. You look break your gaze from the distant object to pinpoint the sound, turning your head from left to right. You can’t see anything. You turn your head back towards your destination but its gone. The sound becomes louder. Confused you look again. Where is it? The darkness blanketed the cause. Frustrated you turn back and forth like a madman. 

A light touch graces your hair. Its here. Your hand instinctively raises and combs through the tuft. For a moment your fingertips meet something soft, something moving, but it left. You crane your neck up towards the dome of the tent trying to catch a glimpse. A single ephemeral light could be seen not to far away moving. Many more came to be. A wave of tiny shimmering rainbows drifted throughout the emptiness. One returns to land on you, you notice that array of colours on the ephemeral objects follow an intricate pattern, weaved into the bodies of the creatures. They circle around your being. 

Slowly yet swiftly the colours begin to blend with one another. No longer can you see the midnight blues or the lush greens instead the colours become a haze of white blocking your vision. Your eyes begin to tinge with a burning sensation, mind spinning all the while. 

Like moments ago, the darkness returns. Pitch black except now someone stands before you. Two figures in fact. Clad in the same hazy white, you once saw you are able to see the two figures have their arms laced around one another, a man and a woman. Both in ballroom attire. The man proceeds to bow his head with majesty, tipping his hat off to you. You can’t see their faces for they are but blurs of white. You nod you head in gratitude and the show ends. Gone. 

A hand reaches out and grabs you.

***

She was right to follow the enthusiast. The tent was still a work in progress. It was never meant to be visible to the guests. The complex runes around the tent were supposed to make sure of that. It was Bailey’s and her’s creation. A little memento for the once main acts of the circus for them to do as they please. 

Maybe it was a sign?

This rêveur was different from others. She knew what needed to be done.

***

You are led out the tent grasped tightly by a small hand. Led away from the crowds outside and to the iron fence lining the edge of the grounds. You look to see your capture. The woman in white. She does not speak. Instead a glove is pulled out from her pocket. She blows into it whispering words unknown to English and places it in your hand. It happens too fast for you to make any sense of it. 

***

You are now outside the circus but the night is still young. You open your fist and see inside the glove given to you by the white woman. A black card is inside. You pick it up carefully examining the writing

Le Cirque de Rêves

You turn the other side. 

Welcome


End file.
